


A Short for Sarap

by OtterMcKilbourne (p_3a)



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-28
Updated: 2010-04-28
Packaged: 2018-01-11 07:52:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1170570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/p_3a/pseuds/OtterMcKilbourne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young orcish shaman recalls a memory from the internment camps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Short for Sarap

Once, when I was very small, I saw a woman die. She was an old woman - she had known it for weeks, and she had told us, as well. We did not tell the humans, for they would use their Mercy on her.

She did not have any family. Nontheless, when the time came, we gathered around by her to hear her speak words. And speak she did - in an old, crumbling voice that was nontheless crisp and sharp like old dry parchment or cracked leather. She spoke one, two, three, four ways - and she spoke, in these ways, of the Old Times.

The first way she spoke was in the way of the strange, but not those who were twisted of soul - instead those who asked of words and wills in such way as to to trick and trip the adult mind with seeming rhymes and riddles that were so obvious and yet so convoluted; and yet also twisted themselves into all sorts of shapes to defy containment. The change, the curiosity, the swift and the slight. She told us young ones that we were to be as the Wind.

The second way she spoke was in the way of the young and brash - want, desire, fury and flightful joy. The way they ate of all and yet such was not for its own end, but to fuel the fight and the way they forged new paths ahead through the dark with their shining brightness and heat. They change things, yes; but perhaps for charring, and yet perhaps for cooking. The energy, the life and the dance. She told the adolescents that they were to be as the Fire.

The third way she spoke was in the way of those who had passed the stage of needing to run, and now merely did so for the pleasures it brought in and of itself - calmness came and yet, it brought with it movement and change, if it was gentle. They see things and - yes, change, but in ways that are agreeable. Carry parts away one by one, little by little, until things are the shape so desired; for such is the way of the world. Follow the flow and yet carry with them ways to nurture and grow. The gentle, soothing, and the smile. She told the young adults that they were to be as the Water.

And the fourth way she spoke was in the way of those who had seen and were unchanging in their ways. Sturdy memories of ways and times long past, but not weak - strong, stronger than all the others. Strong of will and way and mind, for they have seen it all. It is theirs to carry the scriptures of the Old Ways and preserve them for the New Ways to learn from. They must be obstinate in their approach to teaching such. The stubborn, but steady and safe. She told the old adults that they were to be as the Earth.

With that, she passed away. What she had said disturbed some - shamanism had been outlawed in the Horde by its Warchief. However, times were changing. Things were becoming strange.

Perhaps, ventured one daring voice in the way of the very small, the Old Times were returning.


End file.
